


We'll be ok

by hazzard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, i hope this makes your heart hurt, massive pile of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzard/pseuds/hazzard
Summary: Whatever happens, he'll take care of her.





	We'll be ok

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt.
> 
> enjoy!! xx
> 
> (i love comments)
> 
> all my love
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS IN NOTES BELOW. contains spoilers, but check them out if you want to.

It hadn’t been her intention to tell him. She hadn’t meant, hadn’t wanted, to.

He stared at her for a couple of seconds. Then, he took a deep breath and put his hands on his neck, elbows on his desk.

“Shit.”

She didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She met his eyes and blinked.

Yes.  _Shit._

“Do you know if… I mean, have you already had it…

She shook her head, but stayed quiet.

“You ok?” He chuckled, shaking his head and muttered to himself, as he’d forgotten she was there. “Of course she’s not ok, what are you even saying-”

She wanted to roll her eyes at him. She so, so badly wanted to pretend everything was like it’d always had been, that she’d roll her eyes at his babbling but not be able to hide a smile from him or the warmth in her chest from herself. 

“I’m glad you told me, that you’d confide in me, but I…” His jaw was trembling, and her heart did the same as she realized. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to…”

 _He didn’t know how to handle it_. Neither did she. She’d been carrying this storm for four days, felt it grow and take over, and now she looked at him and she knew, she knew it’d spread to him to. Of course it had. He didn’t love her, didn’t dream about another life with her, didn’t put her and ‘what if’ in the same sentence. But he cared. She knew that he cared about her. She’d known that he’d take her storm. That he wouldn’t be able to handle it or know what the hell he should do with it, but that he’d take it. She’d known that he’d still take it.

And he had. 

She stood in front of him, her arms crossed tightly over his chest. He sat as his desk, his hands clasped together. They looked at each other in silence and time stood still. The storm was raging, raging, raging. And now it was his storm, too. She’d thought that would’ve made it smaller. That a shared storm was half a storm.

But she noticed his eyes turning into a darker blue than they usually were. She saw his jaw trembling. And she felt her head thumping and the trees going down, down, down, and, god help them, there was nothing half about it.

 

She’d noticed the lump a week ago. It’d been a usual night, a usual shower before she’d go to bed and pray that the nightmares would still long enough for her to get some sleep.

Her hands had roamed over her body, for one second he and his hands on her skin had flashed before her eyes and she’d cursed her weakness, and then, there, in her left breast, under her arm, there it’d been. 

As first, she’d tried to scoff away her instant panic. Women found lumps all the time. It could be benign. Even if it wasn’t, cancer wasn’t a death sentence. 

She’d stood under the pouring water until the water got so cold, she started shaking. She’d dried herself off, put on her big sleeping shirt, and lied in her bed and stared at the ceiling until the alarm went off beside her. She’d sat up, gotten dressed, went out to train with with Daisy and she’d kept going. She’d kept going and she hadn’t stopped for four days.

She lied in her bed now, too, and she blinked at the ceiling and tried to not think about the irony that after all the bullets, beatings, stab wounds, electric shocks, torture, near starvations and bombs she’d survived, the thing killing her would be the same thing that killed a ordinary, white-picket fence housewife from Florida.

 

He hadn’t knocked. Suddenly he was just there.

He lied down by her side and grabbed her hand. Her tears started flowing the second she felt his skin on hers.

“Tomorrow, you’re telling Simmons.”

She turned to him, ready to protest, but he squeezed her hand. “I know. But you have to.”

She turned back to look at he ceiling. 

“I wasn’t sure if I should’ve told you.”

She didn’t look his way, but she could feel his eyes on her.

“You have enough problems already and I didn’t know if I should add to that, if this was even something worth sharing or if it was something…”

“…something I didn’t need to hear?”

She turned back to him and nodded.

He squeezed her hand again. “Melinda, I love you. Whatever you’re going through, I want to be there, right next to you.”

She swallowed and desperately tried to blink away the tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

He scooted closer and his arms settled around her. She sobbed into his chest and he placed a soft kiss on her hair and softly whispered soothing words against it.

_They’d be ok. They’d be ok._

**Author's Note:**

> cw: cancer / cw: sickness


End file.
